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UNIVER3UY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN  DIEGO       T, .,       < .  .    „  f     ,   ^ 
°  LA  JOLLA,  CALIFORNIA 


0  npmight 


Digitized  by  thfe'|ht0rnet  Archive 

in  2007  with  frjhding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/friendlytownOOclariala 


Friendly  Town 

' Thomas  C  .urtis  Clark 


i  c  Cloister  Pre-: 


JsAME  old  sunshine, 
Same  old  flowers  ; 

Same  old  home  nest 
For  quiet  hours; 

Same  old  home  folks, 
Plain,  but  true; 

Same  old  garden, 
Grass  and  dew; 

Same  old  meadows, 
Daisy-strewn  ; 

Same  old  blue  sky, 
Same  old  June; 

Same  old  hearthstone, 
Same  old  friends; 

Same  old  loving 
Till  living  ends. 


W&t  Htgfjta  of  Jf rtenblp  Coton 

"fc^-^ERE,  in  tKe  city  of  the  proud, 
W     1     Alone  I  wander,  up  and  down  ; 
^—. JC  But  often  for  my  eyes  there  &leam 
The  lights  of  Friendly  Town. 

The  city  lights  are  bright,  'tis  true, 
Alon&  the  streets  of  wide  renown, 

But  somehow  still  I  lon&  to  see 
The  lights  of  Friendly  Town. 

The  faces  that  I  see  are  fair, 

But  there's  a  face,  more  plain  and  brown, 
Which  tempts  me  oft  to  seek  a&ain 

The  lights  of  Friendly  Town. 

Why  should  I  tread  these  weary  streets, 
And  seek  my  lonely  thoughts  to  drown, 

When  there  are  twinkling,  calm  and  bright, 
The  lights  of  Friendly  Town. 

Ah,  soon  I'll  hie  me  back  a&ain 

And  ask  of  Her  love's  joy  and  crown, 

Then  we  shall  build  our  nest  amon& 
The  lights  of  Friendly  Town. 


<&n  Contentment  fetreet 

"Vp^ERE,  on  fair  Contentment  Street, 
W     1  Life  is  blest  and  joy  complete. 
^— «JC  In  each  home  abides  a  friend; 
No  fraternal  quarrels  rend. 
Every  heart  is  open  wide; 
Comrades  all  are  we  who  bide 
On  Contentment  Street,  nor  ever 
Can  the  curse  of  envy  sever. 

Spring  comes  early  to  our  town; 
Summer  sends  her  best  &ifts  down; 
Bounteous  fields  of  daisy-^old 
Brin&  our  vision  joy  untold. 
Lilac  bloom  and  roses  red 
Cheer  us.     With  the  summer  fled, 
What  rare  &ifts  the  fruit  trees  pour 
From  their  golden  autumn  store ! 

Why  should  we,  my  friend,  complain, 
While  each  month  affords  such  &ain  ? 
Health  and  friends  and  hope  are  ours; 
Work  —  and  rest,  in  shady  bowers. 
We  have  little  moneyed  treasure, 
But  have  joy  beyond  all  measure. 
Peace  and  love  are  bread  and  meat 
Here  on  dear  Contentment  Street. 


Emg  of  an  Sere 

KING  of  bluest  blood  am  I, 
Though  &old  and  purple  pass  me  by; 
By  ri&ht  divine  I  wield  the  rod 
Above  this  realm  of  sod  and  clod. 

My  palace  home  is  passing  plain — 
A  simple  cottage  by  the  lane  ; 
Beneath  its  roof  what  hours  are  spent 
Of  kindly  thought  and  proud  content ! 

My  Queen,  what  royal  &arb  has  she — 
The  robes  of  worth  and  purity  ! 
A  rod  of  love  her  fair  hands  hold, 
A  scepter  mightier  than  of  &old. 

No  hunting  grounds  my  kingdom  knows  ; 
I  find  fair  sport  in  fat  bean  rows, 
And  in  the  maze  of  bush  and  vine, 
And  tangled  wealth  of  eglantine. 

What  need  have  I  of  golden  crown, 
Or  jeweled  throne,  or  fair  renown? 
I  look  at  none  with  jealous  eye, 
For  who  has  more  of  sun  and  sky  ? 

O  who  would  not  a  monarch  be 
Of  cot  and  hearth,  of  bush  and  tree  ! 
He  shall  not  ask  a  beggar's  dole, 
Who  has  an  acre — and  his  soul! 

Note.     Copyright  of  above  poem  owned  by  People's  Home  Journal. 
Used  by  permission. 


tKop  ©'  W$t  jlllormng 

^^^^HE  sun's  a  rose  in  the   garden   of 
■     ^  J         morn, 

^^   -J     The  air  is  fresh  and  sweet ; 
The  cares  of  yesterday  forgot, 

Our  hearts  with  new  hope  beat. 
The  corn  rows  &leam  in  the  silvering  li&ht, 

The  meadows  drip  with  dew ; 
The  roses  smile  for  everyone — 

Top  o'  the  morning  to  you  ! 


G( 


<6ob  3te  J?ot  Jf  ar 

'OD  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us  : 
The  wild  flower  by  the   wayside 
speaks  His  love  ; 
Each  blithesome  bird   bears    tidings   from 
above, 

And  men  know  not  His  voice ! 

God  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us : 
He  speaks  to  us  in  every  &lad  sunrise ; 
His  fclory  floods  us  from  the  noonday  skies  ; 
The  stars  declare  His  love  when  daylight 
dies, 

And  men  know  not  His  voice ! 

God  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us : 
He  watches  o'er  His  children  day  and  ni&ht ; 
On  every  darkened  soul  He  sheds  His  li&ht ; 
Each  burdened  heart  He  cheers,  and  lends 
His  mi&ht 

To  all  who  know  His  voice. 


Wiealtl) 

XHAVE  a  friend  of  wealth  untold : 
His  window  views  a  field  of  &old, 
And  ri&ht  before  his  open  door 
A  rosebush  thrives — though  little  more. 

A  robin  comes  each  shining  day 
And  helps  him  while  the  hours  away. 
But  more — within  his  four  walls  pent, 
He  holds  the  jewel  of  content ! 


10 


OH,  what  a  lovely  day 
To  gently  slip  away, 
And  live  a&ain  in  fancy's  fairyland, 
With  Stevenson  and  Scott 
And  Dickens — such  a  lot 
Of  fun  and  frolic  ready  to  my  hand ! 

Then  Riley,  with  his  son&s, 
To  just  this  day  belongs, 
For  every  word  bears  messages  of  cheer ; 
And  here  is  rare  Mark  Twain, 
Now  let  it  rain  and  rain  ! 
There's  naught  of  gloom  can  ever  reach 
me  here. 

Then,  when  I  turn  away 

From  all  these  comrades  &ay, 

I  look  far  out  upon  the  fields  of  corn, 

And  seem  to  see  them  g,row, 

A-wavin&  row  on  row  ; 

I  think  of  Plenty  filling,  up  her  horn. 

The  daises  in  the  rain 

Shine  forth  with  "might  and  main," 

A  hundred  robins  fill  the  apple  tree  ; 

Oh,  what  a  lovely  day, 

With  everything  so  gay  ! 

It's  raining,  joy  and  wonderment  to  me  ! 


11 


®o  James  OTItntcomt)  &tlep 

(1915) 

QOET  of  common  thin&s — 
Sunshine  and  birds  and  flowers- 
For  you  all  nature  sin&s  ; 
Hope  for  you  ever  springs. 
Joy  fleams  from  sorrow's  showers, 
At  your  sweet  Carolines. 
Childhood  brings  love  to  you, 
Knowing,  your  heart  is  true  ; 
Knowing  you  understand 
Their  dreams  of  fairyland. 
Greetings  we  all  would  brin&, 
Poet  and  Childhood's  Kin&. 


12 


Spring  &ong 

^tt^ITH  my  ear  pressed  to  the  earth, 
J        j    Lon&  I  held  ray  breath  and  listened, 
VJ  7  Till  the  last  snow-flurry  fled, 

And  the  last  frost-blossom  glistened  ; 
And  I  heard  it,  yes,  I  heard  it, 

Heard  her  voice  of  mirth  and  laughter  ; 
And  I  saw  her  tripping  toward  me, 

With  her  rose-^irls  coming  after — 
Spring,  the  queen  of  love  and  lon£in&, 
With  her  nymphs  of  beauty  thron&in&. 

As  she  sped  alon&  the  path, 

Sunbeams  hastened  to  caress  her  ; 
And  the  gentle  winds,  lon&  prisoned, 

Vied,  impassioned,  to  possess  her; 
Violets,  forget-me-nots, 

Larkspurs  and  anemones, 
Sprang  from  every  spot  she  touched, 

And  the  waking  apple  trees 
Burst  a&ain  in  tinted  &lory, 
Freed  from  Winter's  scepter  hoary. 


n 


LONG  tKe  roadside  of  the  days 

The  fairest  roses  &row ; 
Who  seek  the  sheltered  garden  plots 
No  sweet  surprise  can  know. 

How  &lad  the  hour  when,  pil&rimin&, 

We  tire  of  dust  and  clod, 
Then  come  upon  a  rare  wild  rose — 

A  very  &ift  of  God. 


14 


<&n  a  Spring  JBap 

OH,  who  on  a  day  like  this 
Could  harbor  a  thought  of  ill, 
With  the  crocus  revealing  its  fcold, 
And  the  violets  strewn  on  the  hill ; 
When  the  air  is  just  mellow  with  June, 

And  the  sky  is  an  ocean  of  blue  ? 
Oh,  who  on  a  day  like  this 
Could  be  to  his  vision  untrue  ! 

God,  save  me  from  every  thought 

That  shuts  me  from  Thy  pure  li&ht, 
And  keep  me  in  spirit  and  deed 

Still  worthy  to  walk  in  Thy  si&ht. 
Could  it  be  I  would  knowingly  shame 

This  day  Thou  hast  &iven  to  me, 
With  beauty  in  every  flower, 

And  mercy  in  every  tree  ! 


15 


Zfy  ©ptimtst 

OH,  a  bad  old  world, 
And  a  sad  old  world, 
Is  this  world  of  sifchs  and  tears, 
With  its  hopes  deceived, 
And  its  hearts  bereaved, 
And  its  flood  of  fruitless  years  ! 
But  for  you  and  me 
Tis  the  best  can  be, 
Is  this  bad  old,  sad  old  world. 

Oh,  a  fair  old  world 

And  a  rare  old  world, 

Is  this  world  of  deeds  and  dreams, 

With  its  love-crowned  days, 

And  its  nights  ablaze 

With  the  starlight's  fclory  beams. 

Friend,  for  you  and  me 

Better  cannot  be 

Than  this  fair  old,  rare  old  world. 


lb 


^eep  Hofce  m  §our  life 

EEP  love  in  your  life,  my  friend, 
If  you  would  have  perfect  joy; 
Keep  love,  never  let  her  depart ; 
For  who  would  his  life  destroy? 
For  life's  no  longer  than  love,  my  friend ; 
When  love  is  no  more,  'tis  the  journey's 

end, 
And  Regret  and  Fear  shall  your   way   at- 
tend. 
Keep  love  in  your  life,  my  friend. 

Keep  love  in  your  life  alway, 
Though  tempted  to  bid  her  &o  ; 

Keep  love  the  bride  of  your  heart, 
If  you  would  a  true  life  know. 

For  life's  no  longer  than  love,  I  say ; 

With  the  end  of  love  comes  the  close  of 
day, 

And  the  chill  of  death  in  the  shadows  &ray. 
Keep  love  in  your  life  alway. 


17 


Wbe  OTIap  anb  tfje  &ong. 

^w^HOEVER  has  in  his  heart  a  son&, 
|1  Has  cheer  and  to  spare  for  a  journey 
Vl/  lonfc. 

The  way  may  be  roug,h  and  the  weather 

drear — 
One  may  fare  quite  well,   with  a  son&   to 

cheer. 

What  though  no  comrade  enliven  the  way  ! 
Just  keep  on  sing,in&,  then,  ni&ht  and  day. 
Whoever  has  in  his  heart  a  son&, 
Has  cheer  and  to  spare  for  a  journey  lon&. 


18 


?|oto  Jfar  is;  it  to  Cfnlbijoob  QTotott  ? 

"|p^rOW  far  is  it  to  Childhood  Town  ? 

■      A  small  one  asked  of  me, 
^— JC  Not  knowing,  of  the  pain  she  &ave — 

My  heart  she  could  not  see  ; 
For  as  I  sought,  in  simple  words, 

To  please  her  ea&er  ears, 
A  tear  broke  past  unwilling  eyes, 

As  they  looked  on  other  years. 

How  far  is  it  to  Childhood  Town  ? 

Oh,  many  miles,  my  child ! 
Beyond  the  Mountains  of  Defeat, 

Where  blasted  hopes  are  piled  ; 
Beyond  the  Vale  of  Sorrow,  where 

The  trees  with  blight  are  brown. 
Far,  far  away  that  happy  place 

We  once  called  Childhood  Town  ! 

How  far  is  it  to  Childhood  Town  ? 

Far  past  the  sun-scorched  plain, 
Where    thron&in£   men,    with     hearts    in- 
flamed, 

Wa&e  war  for  sordid  &ain  ; 
Far  o'er  the  Sea,  where  many  ships 

Have  stranded  and  &one  down. 
Oh,  far  away  that  happy  realm 

We  once  called  Childhood  Town  ! 


19 


And  yet  your  heart,  ray  happy  child, 

Feels  naught  of  human  woe  ; 
No  mount,  no  vale,  no  stormy  sea 

Your  simple  life  can  know. 
For  you  a  river,  passing  fair, 

Flows  evermore  adown 
By  that  rare  realm,  sweet  Fairyland, 

Your  own  dear  Childhood  Town. 


Baton 

^^^HE  long,,  lon&  ni&ht  has  passed ; 
M    ^J  The  hills  are  touched  with  fcold  ; 
^fr_  *  Come,  let  us  feed  our  hearts 

Before  the  day  &rows  old. 
All  rapturous  the  world — 

But  lo  !  the  charm  has  &one  ! 
The  fcreedy  sun  has  had  its  fill 

From  the  ^lory-feast  of  dawn. 


20 


Ctoo  &ongs 

OH,  the  day  is  cheery, 
The  sky  is  blue, 
The  sun  is  shining 
For  me  and  you  ; 
So,  with  hearts  overflowing 
We'll  breathe  a  son&, 
With  a  zest 
For  the  quest, 
As  we  journey  alon&. 

Oh,  the  day  is  dreary, 

The  way  is  steep, 
The  heart  is  pining 

In  shadows  deep  ; 
Yet  we'll  press  still  onward 
With  spirits  strong, 
For  the  quest 
Leads  to  rest, 
Though  the  journey  be  lon&. 


21 


<&ti  for  a  Soltimp 

^W^  ORRY,  it's  you  for  the  shelf ! 
I      If     Trouble,  &et  out  of  my  way! 
VAx  The  world  must  shuffle  alon&  some- 
how— 
I'm  off  for  a  holiday. 

Heaven  is  pouring  out  fcold, 

Meadows  all  blooming  with  May — 

The  whole  round  earth  has  learned,  I  fcuess, 
That  I'm  off  for  a  holiday. 

It  doesn't  pay  to  fret, 

No  matter  what  they  say. 
With  eyes  wide  open,  a  heart  that's  li&ht, 

I'm  off  for  a  holiday. 


22 


&ong  to  Helen 

'PRIL  bore  you,  Helen  dear, 
Fickle  month  of  all  the  year  ; 
Now  like  sunshine  is  your  face, 
Soon  to  yield  with  easy  &race 

To  the  storm. 
April  bore  you,  Helen  dear, 
Fickle  month  of  all  the  year. 

April  bore  you,  fickle  one, 
With  your  moods  of  rain  and  sun  ; 
Still  I  would  not  change  your  ways, 
For  I  love  those  April  days, 

And  so  you. 
April  bore  you,  fickle  one, 
With  your  moods  of  rain  and  sun. 


23 


&ong 

fAY  days,  May  days, 
Smiles  and  wiles  and  a  son&  ; 
Naufcht  can  trouble  the  heart  of 
youth, 
For  hope  is  strong. 


e 


Drear  days,  fear  days, 
Bli&ht  and  ni&ht  and  a  si&h  ; 
Nau&ht  can  lighten  the  heart  of  a&e, 
For  hope's  &one  by. 


24 


Zfy  Ikst  Daps  of  911 

\^fc  ;HESE  are  the  best  days  ! 
■     ^j     Stars  were  never  brighter, 
^n   <J     Hearts  were  never  lighter ; 
Son&s  of  birds  and  rippling  brooklets 

Never  were  more  sweet ; 
There  were  never  fairer  flowers 

Than  those  at  our  feet 
In  these  fair  days, 
These  rare  days, 

The  best  days  of  all ! 

These  are  the  best  days  ! 

Skies  were  never  bluer, 

Friends  were  never  truer  ; 
There  was  never  less  of  sorrow, 

More  of  joy  and  son&, 
Than  we  find  beside  our  pathway 

As  we  trudge  along,, 
In  these  fair  days, 
These  rare  days, 

The  best  days  of  all ! 


25 


Q 


®o  JJoetrp 

OETRY,  return  to  earth  ; 
Give  the  world  a  sweet  new  birth. 


Grant  us  power  a&ain  to  feel 
In  this  a&e  of  stone  and  steel. 

Free  the  fettered  fount  of  joy  ; 
Fret  and  foolish  care  destroy. 

Lift  for  men  the  star  of  hope. 
Let  them  not  in  darkness  &rope. 

Slay  the  demons,  Doubt  and  Fear 
Through  thy  an&els,  Trust  and  Cheer. 

Keep  in  us  thy  vital  breath, 
Lest  our  souls  partake  of  death. 

Poetry,  return  to  earth  ; 

Give  the  world  a  sweet  new  birth. 


26 


6C 


fflje  Wlovlb^uilbtv* 

'IVE  me  the  poet's  vision  ; 

Grant  me  the  &ift  of  son& ; 
Life  and  the  things  eternal 
All  to  the  bards  belong. 

They  are  the  true  world-builders  ; 

Theirs  are  the  deathless  years  ; 
They  hold  the  ageless  scepter — 

Wielders  of  dreams  and  tears. 

Where  is  the  soldier's  &lory  ? 

Where  is  the  monarch's  name  ? 
Theirs  is  a  bloody  story, — 

Theirs  is  a  blighted  fame. 

Where  is  the  statesman's  grandeur  ? 

Where  is  the  courtier's  pride  ? 
Lo,  in  the  tombs  they  rest  them, 

By  the  wild  ocean-side. 

Give  me  the  poet's  vision  ; 

Grant  me  the  &ift  of  son& ; 
Life  and  the  things  eternal 

All  to  the  bards  belong. 


27 


Cake  Cime  to  Itbe 

y^^  AKE  time  to  live  ; 

b     ^j  The  world  has  much  to  &ive 

^^^X  Of  faith  and  hope  and  love : 

Of  faith,  that  life  is  &ood, 

That  human  brotherhood 

Shall  no  illusion  prove ; 

Of  hope,  that  future  years 

Shall  bring,  the  best,  in  spite 

Of  those  whose  darkened  si&ht 

Would  stir  our  doubts  and  fears; 

Of  love,  that  makes  of  life, 

With  all  its  g,rief ,  a  son&  ; 

A  friend,  of  conquered  wron& ; 

A  symphony,  of  strife. 

Take  time  to  live, 

Nor  to  vain  mammon  &ive 

Thy  fruitful  years. 

Take  time  to  live; 

The  world  has  much  to  &ive 

Of  sweet  content ;  of  joy 

At  duty  bravely  done ; 

Of  hope,  that  every  sun 

Shall  bring,  more  fair  employ. 

Take  time  to  live, 

For  life  has  much  to  g,ive, 

Despite  the  cynic's  sneer 

That  all's  forever  wron&. 

There's  much  that  calls  for  song, ! 

To  fate  lend  not  thine  ear. 

Take  time  to  live  ; 

The  world  has  much  to  &ive. 


9*  TLittlt  Cfnlbren 

'S  little   children  playing  alon&  the 

wide  seashore, 
Gathering    pearly    shells,     turning 
them  o'er  and  o'er, 
Tiring   of  each   in   turn    but    to    seek    a 

brighter  one, — 
So   play  we,  children   all,    till  life's   play 
hour  is  done. 

As  little  children  playing  alonfc  the    wide 

seashore, 
Building,  their  houses  of   sand   where    the 

wild  waters  roar, 
Then,  when  the  waves  devour,  crying  out 

to  the  heedless  deep, — 
So  play  we,  children  all,  and  are    left   on 

the  shore  to  weep. 

As  little  children  playing  alon&   the  wide 

seashore, 
Launching    their    fragile   barks    freighted 

with  precious  store, 
Tracing    their    wayward    course    till    the 

waves  their  treasures  spend, — 
So  play  we,  children  all,  and    shall   unto 

the  end. 


29 


®be  little  01b  GToton 

HERE'S  a  word  of  praise 
For  the  little  old  town 
Back  Indiana-way. 
You  may  sneer,  you  may  frown, 
You  may  lau&h  me  down, 
But  I'm  telling  you  today 
That  stars  are  far  brighter, 
And  hearts  are  far  lighter 
In  that  little  old  town 
By  the  lon&  red  lane, 
Where  they  don't  sell  their  souls 
For  power  and  &ain  ; 
Where  the  roses  are  fresh 
With  the  morning  dew, 
And  there's  something  sweet  &rowin& 
All  summer  through. 
I  don't  know  a  place  any  better, 
Do  you, 
Than  that  little  old  country  town  ? 

Here's  a  word  of  praise 
For  the  little  old  town 
Back  Indiana-way. 
It  is  meek  and  plain, 
And  the  long,  red  lane 
Has  nothing  of  vain  display  ; 
But  people  don't  worry, 
And  thoughtlessly  hurry 
In  that  little  old  town 
By  the  dear  home  road  ; 

30 


For  they're  satisfied  quite, 
And  pride  is  no  &oad. 
They  revel  in  roses 
The  summer  through, 
And  the  winter-time  brings 
Its  raptures,  too. 
I  don't  know  a  place  any  better, 
Do  you, 
Than  that  little  old  country  town? 


Note.— Copyright  of  above  poem  owned  by  People's  Home  Journal. 
Used  by  permission. 


31 


